Chapter 46
October 25
Suspicions Confirmed
Chance, my friend and master, will surely deign to send again, to help me, the familiar devils of his unruly kingdom! I have no faith, except in him — and in myself. Particularly in him, for, when I sink, he fishes me up again, and grips and shakes me like a rescuing dog . . . So that every time I sink, I do not expect a final catastrophe, but only some adventure, some trivial, commonplace miracle which, like a sparkling link, may close up again the necklace of my days.
Renée Néré, in Colette’s La Vagabonde
YOU MAY SUSPECT that you have no real friends, and yet when you die, if you could somehow arrange to attend your own wake — disguised, perhaps, as a shadow in a corner or a mist drifting in through an open window — you might be surprised and delighted to see how many people show up. Of course, it is equally likely — at least equally likely, probably more likely — that your suspicions would be confirmed, and that the room where your corpse lay a-moldering would be empty except for a melancholy shade or a dispirited fog, so it’s best not to leave such matters to chance. Make arrangements now for an open bar, hot hors d’oeuvres, and a jazz band. That’ll bring them in.
I was thinking along those lines, and consequently sinking into self-pity, when I happened to bump into Lou at the coffee urn, where I thought I would probably find him at that time of the morning. “You know, Lou,” I said, in a casual tone meant to catch him off guard, “I’ve been thinking.”
“Uh-oh,” he said.
“I’ve been thinking that we ought to celebrate your acquisition.”
“Great idea.”
“I was figuring that Small’s Affairs could handle the catering, and Nancy and Elaine could take care of promotion and public relations.”
“Sure. Sounds fine.”
“Tony T could put the whole fleet of runabouts into service, perhaps decorate them a bit.”
“Decorate?”
“I was thinking of a special pennant of some kind.”
“A pennant?”
“Something like — oh — how about, ‘Happy Birthday Peter’?”
“What?”
“Only kidding.”
“Uh-huh.”
“If we all pitch in, we could erect enough tents by tomorrow, I think.”
“Tents?”
“Well, my guess is that if we turn Artie loose with a list of my closest friends we’ll have an invasion on our hands by tomorrow morning — if he remembers to mention the open bar, the free food, and the jazz band.”
“Jazz band?”
“Loretta can make it happen. I’m sure she can.”
He looked at me for a minute, then asked; “Is it okay if some of the pennants say ‘Good Luck Lou’?”
“Of course,” I said.
“We’d better get Cutie working on those.”
“Right,” I said. “No time to lose.”
[to be continued]
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